A history of the yellow fever : The yellow fever epidemic of 1878, in Memphis, Tenn., embracing a complete list of the dead, the names of the doctors and nurses employed, names of all who contributed money or means, and the names and history of the Howards, together with other data, and lists of the dead elsewhere / By J. M. Keating.

  • Keating, John McLeod, 1830-1906.
Date:
1879
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: A history of the yellow fever : The yellow fever epidemic of 1878, in Memphis, Tenn., embracing a complete list of the dead, the names of the doctors and nurses employed, names of all who contributed money or means, and the names and history of the Howards, together with other data, and lists of the dead elsewhere / By J. M. Keating. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by the Harvey Cushing/John Hay Whitney Medical Library at Yale University, through the Medical Heritage Library. The original may be consulted at the Harvey Cushing/John Hay Whitney Medical Library at Yale University.

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    perished in their Samaritan work were gathered in from the slums of society. Gamblers, outcasts, and outlaws among the males, with those among the females who were marked with the sc|rlet letter, felt as keen sympathies, labored as heroically, nursed as tenderly, and died as bravely as those who, in the garb of purple and fine linen, forgot caste, station, and all the attractions of social superiority, to lend their efforts and presence to encourage the af- flicted, with a self-denial characteristic of the times. The Tribune readers are familiar with the facts concerning Annie Cook, whose grave, strewn with flowers, is among the prominent features of the Howards' lot in Elm wood. She did the best she could, and, after a troubled life, the prayers of hundreds throughout this broad land go up this bright morning to the Throne, that she sleeps in peace: Let sweet-voiced Mercy plead for her Who silent lies beneath the Rod; Nor let proud, erring man assume The province of her Judge, her God. Another case, similar in many respects, came under my observation, the de- tails of which may not be uninteresting. Lorena Mead is the name of a Louis- iana girl of rare personal attractions and accomplishments, whom the war left bankrupt and helpless. She went down the Jericho road, and when the epi- demic raised its hideous head, instead of consulting safety in flight, she re- mained to aid in its destruction. And a veritable ministering angel has she proven herself to be. There are bodies rotting in the potter's field she dressed for their narrow home, and there are convalescents walking the streets to-day, who speak her name with gratitude and veneration. She has gone home to re- new her life of virtue, and, amid the scenes of her childhood, attempt to re- deem herself from a bondage unutterably wretched. ' The trials through which I've passed, and the suffering I've witnessed and participated in, have made a Christian of me,' she says, ' and my future life, so far as I can make it, will be devoted to redemption and reformation.' How do you account for all this? remarked the correspondent of the Louisville Courier-Journal to a physician. Champagne did it; this wine was the most demoralizing agent in the epidemic. Many a colored fellow risked the plague to taste, and, when convalescent, lost his life trying to get hold of it. Had I had twenty-five acclimated nurses when the fever came, said Dr. Mitchell, I could have done more good than a whole State full of such nurses as invaded Memphis. Instances are related where watches and all manner of valuables were stolen by nurses. The boldest of yarns were brazenly told to cover up rascality. The general story was the valuables shown had been given by patients. Drunkenness and desertion were every-hour occurrences, and theft was ex- tremely common. There were many remarkable cases reported, which not only defied the phy- sician's skill, but all precedent. One of these-was that of H. E. Crandell, a printer, who suffered from the black vomit three times, and was given up for dead by his physician. But his nurse, a Mrs. Smith, from New Orleans, re- fused to be governed by this opinion, and labored on him with such good re- sults that he is to-day well and at work. Jefferson Davis, Jr., died at five o'clock, on the evening of October 16th, at Buntyn Station, near Memphis. He was a noble boy, inheriting the talents and genius of his illustrious father. His funeral took place the day following, at Elmwood Cemetery, and was attended by fifteen persons, which was the largest throng that had congregated at any one burial since the beginning of the epidemic. An almost inexplainable fact in regard to the» great scourge was the abject